


Shoes

by SirLadySketch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Implied Crush, In which two strong-willed ladies disagree on something trivial, cultural clashes, difference of opinions, early friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:37:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remli liked Cassandra, she truly did. But there comes a time to put your foot down, literally. Set in the early days of the game, after “The Wrath of Heaven” but before “The Threat Remains.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoes

They had been ruined beyond recognition: the leather looked as though it had been shredded, and the soles were broken, blistered husks. It was hard to make out the semblance of a shoe, as warped and soiled as they were.

“Maker’s breath, what did you do, Herald?” asked Cassandra, staring at the pile on the table.

“Well, like I said before,” replied the elf, shrugging her shoulders, “I was about to give them a proper burial, but you stopped me—“

“I do not understand, the shoes were in perfectly fine condition when you left—“

“I told you, we ran into some trouble,” interrupted Remli, but Cassandra scowled, picking up a chunk of what used to be a delicately decorated shoe, complete with buttons and silken laces. What remained was barely enough to call scraps.

“We’ve talked about this, Herald,” sighed Cassandra, waving the dismembered sole at her, “The people need to have a symbol to look up to, someone who must look the part.”

“And we can’t have a shoeless heathen leading the masses, right?” Remli snapped, glaring at the tattered remains of the footware she had fought every literal step of the way.

“You put words into my mouth, Herald. Do not think so little of me. But yes, if you are to lead these people, you must be seen as complete.” Cassandra motioned to the elf’s attire.

“Your armor is strong, and your blades are sharp. But people see you without shoes and they wonder if we are so ill-equipped that our leader goes barefooted through the snow.”

“But I like the snow!” protested Remli, although she’s been in enough arguments with Keeper Deshanna to know a losing battle when she saw one. “Besides, those shoes were ridiculous. You can’t expect me to go traipsing about the desert in silken high-heeled boots.”

“They were a gift from a visiting dignitary. Such things are expected of you if you are to show your appreciation for their aid in this battle.” Cassandra turned the shoe in her hand back and forth, shaking her head. “Maker only knows how it is you managed to wear these out so quickly.”

“I’m not really sure how it happened, Cassandra,“ Remli shrugged, hoping Cole was suitably distracted somewhere that was not here. “I warned you, I am not used to wearing these things, and when I fight I use my entire body—including my feet.”

“All the more reason to—Are these teeth marks?” exclaimed Cassandra, squinting at the puncture marks along one side of the boot.

“If I promise not to let it happen again, will that make you feel better?” asked Remli, trying to dissuade the Seeker from discovering how the boots had ‘accidentally’ been burned through with acid.

“We shall see,” murmured Cassandra, narrowing her eyes. Then, she smiled, and Remli felt her heart sink. “I shall have Vivienne contact her tailors in Orlais. No doubt they will have something that will stand up to even your rigorous breaking-in routine.”

“I have the boots that I wore at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, will those suit you?” Remli asked, thinking back to the light boots Keeper Deshanna had given her for the journey. Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded, and stuck out her hand. Remli looked down at it, briefly, then took the offered gesture of peace, shaking her accord.

 

 

“Earth warm, mud soft, grass between my toes and air around her ankles. She did not mean to break her word, but she misses the feeling of Life beneath her feet.”

“What are you on about, Cole?” asked Cassandra, watching the strange boy as he traced the red line of the bulls-eye on the practice dummy. Cole stared at her, then stared down at his feet. He wiggled his toes, or tried to, his boot leather too stiff to do more than creak.

“She doesn’t hate the image, she hates the shoes. They hurt, and pinch and close in all around her. It’s hard enough to be trapped within the stone—the leather chafes, another blister, calluses rubbing against uncomfortable confines—She’s going to give the next pair to refugees she finds on the road. She wonders if you will think less of her. She hopes he will think more of her.”

“I… Cole, there are times that some things are best left unsaid,” sighed Cassandra, putting down her sword.

“She buried the last ones. I helped. It made her happy,” he beamed, and Cassandra couldn’t help but smile. 

“They were rather ill-suited for walking,” she admitted, although the spirit had vanished as she drew breath.

 

 

“Herald!” Cassandra called, and Remli jumped, not suspecting the Seeker’s approach.

“Cassandra?” asked Remli, although her voice trailed off as she took the proffered box from the woman. Cassandra stood stiffly, nodding abruptly at the box.

“For any refugees you find along the road,” was all she said, and turned swiftly on her heel to return to her duties. 

Remli shifted the box and opened the lid to peer inside. A pile of shoes and other assorted articles of clothing met her curious gaze. She was almost positive that these were items that had been gifted to her from nobles who’d come to call. She smirked, looked up at the retreating woman’s form, and placed the box on the cart to go out with the rest of the supplies.


End file.
